The Devil's Hand
by DesertPaint
Summary: Alina's power is not her own. The Darkling still controls her, yet she finds a way to escape. Worse, Mal has turned on her, so now she is running from two of the most talented men in Ravka. She heads out alone, but Zoya has other plans...
1. Deviation

The Darkling signaled to Ivan, who stood behind him, waiting for orders. "Bring me the prisoner."

I looked up sharply, a fresh bolt of fear shooting through me as Mal was led through the crowd and to the railing, his hands bound.

The Darkling looked him over, as if contemplating his choice. Mal raised his chin and their eyes met. He gave an imperceptible nod. My gaze shot between them, unsure of what was going on.

The Darkling turned back to the crowd, "The prisoner Malyen Oretsov has been offered an official pardon. He has been promised clemency for his crimes and in return he will serve Ravka with his life."

Murmurs rolled through the crowd. But none looked surprised by his announcement.

"This is after all, going to be a new age of forgiveness and obedience," He stressed the word obedience as he glanced at the Fjerdans and Shu Han. Some bristled with indignation and others turned the color of sour milk.

"Oretsov here, will be harbinger to that age."

I gaped, unable to stop myself, "Mal? What is he talking about?" Mal looked at me as though he was willing me to understand. His eyes searched mine, pleading with me.

The conflicting emotions of relief and horror overtook me. Mal had joined the enemy. He made a deal with the Darkling. But he was safe. Obviously the Darkling's plan to dispose of him in the Shadow Fold had been revised. But what had he traded? His tracking skills? Maybe his knowledge of me? Or was it something more sinister? I wanted Mal to be safe, to be protected. But I didn't want him to sell his soul.

"We leave for Os Alta! The Time of the Grisha has come!" The Darkling called, and in response a wild cheer went up. The masses began moving and the Darkling turned to the Fjerdan, Kerch and Shu Han ambassadors, "Think about what I have shown you. Run back to your kings, your queens, your people. And tell them that I will not stop until each and every one of them is under my foot, do you understand?"

The Fjerdans and Kerch nodded stiffly and swept around, walking out of the Fold with the rest. The Shu Han argued amongst themselves until the leader, a dark-haired man with his coal colored beard tied into an intricate knot marched up to the Darkling menacingly. Ivan stepped forward, hands at the ready, but the Darkling caught his eye.

He spoke in an accent-heavy growl, "You are demons! All of you! And if you think we will submit to the will of witches and fiends then you are as mad as the Black Heretic!"

The Darkling's mouth curved slowly into a small smile.

"You have no idea how right you are."

I shut my eyes unable to take it all in. I had just killed hundreds, maybe even thousands of people. I didn't think it was possible to detest myself more than I already did, but then my thoughts strayed to the future. The Darkling would have me slaughter entire nations for his greed. I was going to become the most famous villain in history. I thought about what mothers would tell their children in Fjerda and Shu Han. Listen to your elders or Alina Starkov will feed you to the Volcra. Do your chores or Alina Starkov will send the Shadow Fold to swallow you. Alina Starkov the Grisha. The Witch. The Murderer.

I saw my fate laid out before me and I knew I had only one choice. I had to run or die trying. I refused to become more of the Darkling's tool than I already had. I opened my eyes and glanced at Mal. He was staring at me. He had a desperate look in his eyes, like he knew what I was thinking. We had known each other since Duke Keramsov's Estate, so he probably did. He shook his head furiously, but I ignored him and looked out at the Fold. I called the light, willing it to come back to me. I tugged and pulled with all my might, but it remained, my own power turned against me.

The skiff started to move, drifting noiselessly across the sand. The Darkling was talking with Ivan, the Grisha laughing and chatting among themselves while the First Army was quiet and glancing nervously at them. No one was watching me, no one except Mal. This was my chance. This was it.

I leaped over the side and broke into a run, not bothering to look back. Almost immediately I heard shouts and cries of confusion.

"Seize her!" The Darkling shouted. The sound of feet pounding across the sand followed. Up ahead I saw the darkness. As soon as I crossed, I would be in the Shadow Fold once more.

"Alina! You'll be killed!" Mal's voice almost made me stop almost made all my resolve falter. But the image of Novokribirsk being destroyed filled my thoughts. I wiped back tears and ran on.

Then, before I had any time to accept my imminent death, I hit the blackness. I skidded to a stop and the chill crept in. It was completely silent, cold and reeking of ruin.

**So how was it? Not too horrible I hope? Well review and I when I continue I'll make adjustments. Romance-wise you should probably know that I'm undecided, so if I get input on that then it will affect my choice. Anyway you get the main idea. It's Alina running away except I decided 'what if Mal didn't go with her?' That might be interesting…Alina on her own.**


	2. Uneasy Alliances

***Don't read foreword if you have not read Siege and Storm. The bold contains spoilers.***

**Wow Siege and Storm… talk about crazy. Was anyone else a little confused on how she so almost-killed the Darkling? I was kinda like, "Isn't he supposed to be hundreds of years old and super powerful…so um, that was easy."**

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It was quiet. I had expected to hear the Volcra emerging at once, but all the Fold betrayed was the sucking of desolate winds, tugging and pushing at my clothing. I paused, but the fear eventually kick-started the ghoulish nightmares prancing around my mind, and set my legs to work accordingly. Grayish dead sand flew out from under my heels as I ran.

The farther I seemed to go, the more lost I became. Everything looked the same, and it was still silent. A hysteria bordering on paranoia rose up, and I gasped for breath in terror. I turned to the left and bounded out to the identically looking dunes.

I couldn't tell if hours or minutes had past, but the fear kept me going. The unsettling feeling of something or someone breathing down my neck was always there. I brushed my hand over my neck constantly, almost obsessively. No matter how many times I turned around, the monsters I expected to find were nowhere to be seen. Tears stung my eyes and my shaking caused me to slip. I fell on my back, certain I would see something. Empty space greeted my darting eyes.

The urge to scream overtook me. I had to bite my tongue to muffle it. Blood filled my mouth and I sobbed. Volcra could smell blood from miles away, if they weren't here already, they would find me now. I hoped Mal would be alright. The Darkling had given him public protection; surely he couldn't go back on it after that. He had to be safe. Surprisingly, I even thought of Genya. Whether she had cared for me at all or not, it didn't change the fact that I thought of her as my friend.

I curled up and awaited my demise, struggling to quiet my sobs. The tears however were out of my control, flowing freely. In the distance, I heard the sand shifting. Closer and closer the noise came, until it was beside me. I squeezed my eyes shut and screamed, ready to feel the Volcra's claws.

Instead, I felt a kick to my ribs. My scream was cutoff with the loss of air. "Would you shut up? You're going to bring every Volcra in the Shadow Fold down on us; Saints know why they aren't here already."

I blinked and stared up into the beautiful, but arrogant face of Zoya. I blinked again, twice; to be sure I wasn't seeing things.

"Did that pretty collar damage your head?" Zoya snarled, "Get up!"

I reluctantly stood, stifling my tears. I stared warily at her. "I won't go; you'll have to drag me back screaming, which would kill both of us."

Zoya rolled her eyes, "I don't have time for this." She grabbed my arm and wrenched me around, breaking into run. I stumbled for a second then gained my feet. We ran through the sands, passing dune after dune.

Then I remembered the Darkling. I couldn't go back. It would mean the end of Ravka. Surely I owed them freedom from a cold-blooded dictator.

I took my free hand and pulled it back, driving my heels into the sand best I could. Zoya whipped around, obvious irritation on her face. Less obviously was the distress, wound tightly around her eyes. She didn't want to show it, but she was afraid. I shook it off; I couldn't afford to be feeling sympathy for the Darkling's tools. I swung my arm, fist colliding with Zoya's perfect features. The first thing I felt was a guilty satisfaction as I heard a crunch, the next was an acute pain in my knuckles and wrist. She gave a little screech and toppled to the ground with a spectacular spin.

I swept around and ran full speed in the opposite direction, doing my best to ignore my hand. The shooting pain had now transformed into numbness. The paranoia was still there, but I shoved it to the back of my mind, knowing if I didn't it would entrap me. The last thing Ravka needed was a repeat of my earlier breakdown.

While I ran, I wondered if I was even going in the right direction. Wouldn't it be just peachy for me to escape from the Shadow Fold right back into the Darkling's arms? Exactly where I started. All I could do was hope. But luck wasn't with me. I ran on and on, getting nowhere. I still had no idea why the Volcra hadn't found me yet, but I was wasting time. Then again, my sense of time was skewed so I didn't know how long I had been in the depths of the Shadow Fold. Just as I began to breathe heavily with the effort, miraculously, I crashed out of the Fold. I almost burst into tears again, at the sight of the sun. It shown in my eyes to the point of blinding me. Despite that, I couldn't have felt more relieved. The crushing feeling of fear was gone. I was on the other side.

I shouldn't have stopped, but I couldn't help it. I put my hands on my knees, gasping for air. A smile broke over my face, and I laughed. I must have sounded insane, but I couldn't resist the choking convulsions. But the memory of Mal's betrayal, and Novokribirsk's destruction slowly quieted me. The guilt was beyond overwhelming. Suddenly I heard a crash.

Zoya limped from the Shadow Fold, her nose streaming red. Her once-shiny hair was tousled and tangled hanging over her head like bundle of knotted thread. Her kefta was ripped and covered in gray sand.

"Stop running!" She clutched her nose, her expression furious.

"You just don't give up, do you?" I shouted at her exasperated. I threw my hands in the air, hoping I could outrun her. By the look of her, I probably could.

"I can't believe you want to impress the Darkling so bad, you'll risk your own life."

"I'm not on the Darkling's side anymore. This is kind of a rogue thing." She kept the sarcastic bite in her voice.

This time it was my turn to roll my eyes. "You'll understand if I find that hard to believe."

Zoya stomped towards to me, eyeing my tearstreaked face with an acidic once-over. "You saw what he did. All those people screaming and running for their lives, and he didn't care. He had us; me especially convinced that we were doing good for Ravka." She appeared almost ashamed, but I couldn't comprehend Zoya feeling anything close to remorse.

"I can't follow him. Novokribirsk was a Ravkan town, and he slaughtered them."

_She forgot to mention my part in it_, I thought bitterly. The apparent anger she displayed surprised me though. I had always believed the Darkling owned her, like all the others. Apparently not.

But could I bring her with me? She could be faking it. Or worse, actually blame me. Maybe she was planning to kill me as soon as she got the chance. But the more I thought it over, the more I realized I needed her. I would need someone to help me. Escaping from the Darkling would be no easy task a second time. If she decided to stab me in the back? Well, no one could argue that I didn't deserve it.

But that didn't make us friends. I could tell from her gaze that every antagonistic feeling from the Little Palace was still there.

"You can come with me, but if you slow me down, I'll leave you behind."

She nodded, not exactly grateful, but forebearing. She stalked on ahead of me, offering no answer. I sighed and looked back at the fold, wishing Mal was here.

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**SOoOoOoO? Review please!** **I was kind of leaning towards Darklina, or even a thing with Strumhond. If you have objections, voice them now or forever hold your peace. **


	3. Even Uneasier Alliances

**MWHAHAHA I'm back! Yeah….no one cares. So I've regained interest in this story, but at the same time I'm very upset at Leigh Bardugo… The third book is coming out in June which is an entire year! Just shy of one month anyway. Grrrrr I'll have a breakdown if I have to wait for this. I guess that's why I'm making crap up.**

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Mal was too nervous to sit. He couldn't do the whole calm business air with the Darkling. It was absurd, he thought, as he paced around the room. Discussing things placidly with the man who had been his mortal enemy less than a week ago was definitely beyond his comfort zone. Of course there was no going back now, not with the Darkling watching his every move. But it wasn't his own neck he was concerned about. Alina's survival depended on his ability to barter with the Darkling. So here he was.

But where was the Darkling? He checked the clock ticking infuriatingly loud above the desk. Twenty minutes late to the tee. Mal suspected the Darkling liked to be late, just to be rude. In their conversations he was perfectly civil but he could tell Alina's decision had burned him. His dislike for Mal was never spoken but through his fleeting expressions. He may not have cared anywhere as strong as love for her, but Mal could tell he twinged a bit at what he considered her betrayal. To be anything less than the paramount of importance in his followers' eyes wasn't good enough. But most of the time he got what he wanted from them. Alina's unconventional behavior may have been what attracted the eye of the Darkling in the first place.

Mal had always wondered how far the Darkling and Alina had actually gone-

"Oretsev," a cool voice cut into his worrying, "Early as always." The Darkling, quiet as a shade settled into the ebony chair behind the fine wooded desk.

Mal bit his tongue as to stop himself from correcting the hidden barb. He chose to say nothing.

The Darkling sighed at Mal's unresponsiveness. It was almost as if he wished Mal would counter violently.

"Why don't you sit down? Don't you find standing all the time rather unenjoyable?"

"I find it good for my health. Don't you find sitting all the time rather dull?" Mal shot back.

The Darkling smiled deadpan, "No, I think watching the agitations of my associates from comfort is somewhat fulfilling."

_Of course you do._

"Now don't tell me, but I'm guessing you don't like the accommodations of the Little Palace." The Darkling's eyes bored into him. He seemed to thrive on knowledge. Every tidbit of information you gave him was doubly used against you the next day, week or month. He had no qualms about biding his time.

Mal guarded his response, "I have no problems with the accommodations." That wasn't totally a lie.

"Oh really?" The Darkling feigned ignorance and astonishment, "But I heard that you've had problems with the Grisha. You can't seem to step out of your room without a confrontation with them."

"That has nothing to do with the accommodations." Mal said blandly.

Rolling of eyes was his response. "I was trying to save you the chagrin of being berated by a superior officer, something I'm sure is not new to you Mr. First Army Tracker."

_It's like every sentence is a snub with him. It's like he can't help himself._

"They ask for it."

"I'm sure." The pulling at the corner of his mouth was the only sign that he was enjoying this, but even if his face had been completely stoic, Mal would have been convinced that of his relish. "I won't have discord in my ranks. If you intend to have a position here, then keep such differences to yourself."

Mal stopped pacing to face the Darkling, "And the point of this meeting was? I suppose you want me to track Alina down and bring her back, right?"

The Darkling leaned forward on his desk, lacing his pale fingers together. He kept an amount of eye-contact that would have unnerved more uncertain men. But Mal had never been known for being uncertain. Except when it came to Alina.

_It took me a while to figure that out. If I had sooner, then maybe things would have been a lot different. _

"That's not a bad guess, but no. I'm hoping Alina can keep herself out of trouble for a while. In the meantime we have something critical to address."

Mal raised his eyebrows. "Isn't Alina priority one? I'm pretty sure your whole plan falls apart without her, unless you've found some other alternative?"

"No, Alina is still a central part of my plan. And I will have what's left of the First Army out looking for her. However we have other work to do. Once we finish, I'll send you out looking for your beloved Sun Summoner, just not right away."

"What's left of the First Army? Didn't that little stunt you pulled get them all killed? At least as far as I could tell from the body count." Mal couldn't help the venom seep into his voice with that one. The Darkling could kill Shu Han, Fjeirdans, or whatever foreigners he wanted and it would be a tragedy. But killing First Army soldiers? Ravkans? That was beyond immoral, it was treason. But it was also plain evil. Working with the Darkling made Mal's skin crawl. And _helping_ him made Mal want to gag. Again, and again he had to remind himself that Alina was all that mattered.

The Darkling didn't even bother replying to his contemptuous disrespect. He stood from his desk and strode around to the door. He opened it but then paused, seeming to remember something.

"Pack what you need. We leave in the morning."

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**Review please, I get cranky without reviews and tend to drop off the map for indiscernible periods of time. Also I'm going to make a poll concerning favorite pairings, just for the heck of it and general curiosity. The whole 'killing the First Army' will be explained later. *hint hint* Anyway give me a little dish about the chapter. I have what I believe to be a good thing planned but miscalculation is a dish best served cold sooo…**


	4. Back to Oz

_I stroll past the apothecary and pawn shop, trying my best to stare straight ahead. Mother says I shouldn't come by this way but it's the quickest to the fountain. All know that the fountain contains the only clean water in this sect of the town. I wish it were closer for I have often heard stories of young girls making their way through the treacherous streets only to be snatched up and never be seen again. Of course stories such as these come from the same people who create tales of magic spells and winged people. Not that it matters, the path still has me grappling with fears borne of these fables. My clammy palms cause the bucket to slip from my grasp and hit the rustic stones with a crack. I turn back sharply to grab it but a small girl with a missing eye blocks me; she holds a beggar's cap, shaking it hungrily at me. Rasping words in a foreign tongue, her dirty fingers close around the fabric of my dress. I flinch, stumbling into the man behind me. He roughly shoves me aside and I catch a glimpse of his face. The scars of knife fighter appear everywhere in his features from a forehead of crisscrossing pale lines to his grisly divided lip. I seize the bucket's grimy handle and break into a faster walk, eager to escape from these horrors._

_At last I arrive at the fountain, and thank about half a dozen saints. The stones are icy as I sweep my dress out and perch on the fountain's edge. The chill even seeps through the many layers of my dress and I stand despite my fatigue from the long walk. No rest for the wicked. My mouth curves up in a smile, capturing an image of my grandmother, a devout woman of small stature who repeats that phrase like her mantra. Especially when my father is around. _

_The sound of my shoes clacking obnoxiously makes me grind my teeth as I proceed back through the streets. The bucket drags me down, straining what little muscles I have. However I reinforce my speed with a recollection of the inhabitants I met on the way here. I hurry past the mutilated girl and dilapidated shops, reaching the gate. With its gleaming iron bars in sight I can't help but feel increasingly relieved as I approach. _

_A scream rings through the noise of the crowd and I drop my bucket in surprise. The newly gathered water splashes onto the dirt incrusted rocks and I curse loudly. An amusing picture of my disapproving grandmother materializes before me for a second, scolding me voraciously for such boorish habits. Then I groan knowing I must head all the way back to the fountain. I grab the bucket and turn back around; my scream joins the hundreds that are emitted in that second. A wall of darkness a thousand feet high towers over the throng. It falls with continuity, the manifestation of a godly hand. The empty bucket slips from my fingers but I pay it no notice. Before my brain can react, my feet begin carrying me towards the gate, away from the horrifying specter. I reach the gate, but it has been closed, the iron bars that once provided safety now the instrument of my death. I shout and scream louder than I imagined possible, but still it is lost in the thunder of human terror. Hundreds press against me, howling and shoving each other, trying to reach the gate. In that moment I realize how futile it all is. Somehow I am able to twist around, determined to look my death in the eye. The shadow falls over us and screams become screeches as death claims us._

The nightmare ends, leaving me in tears. The time that passes seems like an unbroken strand of nothing. I'm too shocked to register anything but the slickness of my cheeks. It may have been hours or minutes but the sun breaks over the horizon, giving life to the barren landscape. An endless plain opens to the light, wispy gray grasses stirring soundlessly, waving rhythmically to nonexistent wind. I shiver; no trees grow here.

We set up camp abreast of the Shadow Fold, not daring to move forward while our ragged minds had no rest. Even the risk of the Darkling wasn't as pressing as the possibilities of freezing to death in the night or being hunted by animals should we continue recklessly. Of course, now that it was morning, the Darkling reappeared in the number one spot of concerns.

Sure enough, I soon heard the melodious voice of Zoya. Accompanied by a swift kick to the ribs.

"Get up. Get up, you pile of bones."

The similarity to my old nickname was enough to light an ember of annoyance. I grimaced and pulled myself off the dirt. Before I opened my eyes, I raked my fingers through limp hair and brushed my hands across my face, trying to rid it off the stickiness and overall filthiness that had settled on my features overnight.

When I did deign to squint through my sleep deprived eyes, Zoya's irritableness became apparent. She brusquely pulled me up, her own face although set with an unpleasant scowl was no less beautiful than back at the Little Palace. But with closer inspection I saw her nose shifted slightly to the left. Noticeable enough to give me a sort of sour pleasure.

"Ok, I'm up, I'm up." I rolled my neck around, slightly stiff from the uncomfortable sleep. Not that I had much with the nightmare.

"We have to get going; the Darkling probably already has people on our trail."

I nodded, knowing the hunt had most likely begun last night. Zoya gave no response to my admission, something told me she would have dragged me along by my hair no matter what I had said. And she began walking - parallel to the Shadow Fold.

"Hold up! Where exactly do you think you're going?" I held the derisiveness from my tone.

She stopped and looked at me distrustfully, as though I was making some distasteful joke.

"Excuse me? We can't go _through_ the Shadow Fold, unless you like being the biscuit in the Volcra's early morning tea."

"Maybe I'm misunderstanding, but you seem to be under the impression that we're crossing back over the Shadow Fold, I know, as weird as that sounds." I held my hands up as though amused at the prospect.

Zoya just stared at me her arms crossed. She looked me up and down every few seconds unsure what to make of me. As if I was a strange beast she had never come across before. I waited, my irritableness morphing into anger. Our standoff continued like this for a minute or so.

_What is wrong with her? We don't have time to be doing this. Whatever we're doing._

"What? What is it?!" I cracked, raising my voice.

She shook her head, "I always thought you were stupid, but I never took you for a coward Alina."

The ember of annoyance exploded into a wildfire. I jabbed a finger at her, "I'm done being insulted by you. It was a mistake to think I needed you. Goodbye Zoya."

I threw my grimy boots forward and strode in the opposite direction, kicking up colorless sand as I went.

"Wait!" Zoya shouted at me.

I didn't even pause. I wanted to see her beg. I had wanted that since we first met. But I knew that was never going to happen in a million years. _I'm probably doing her a favor. She can go back to power and luxury, regain the Darkling's approval and be out chasing me down in under a month. Everyone's happy._

"Stop! Would you slow down?" She fell into step behind me, "I-I-I… oh for Saints' Sake!"

I cocked my ear in her direction. Maybe I was delusional but she almost sounded a bit desperate.

"Look," She stomped huffily through the sand behind me, "I thought we were on the same page. Saving Ravka from the Darkling? Remember that?"

"Zoya, you do know that the Darkling is a hundred times stronger than me? If I actually had a chance, I wouldn't have run off in the first place."

"So you're giving up on Ravka completely? You can't run off, we can still win. The fight is here. If you leave, the Darkling's power will only grow. You can't fight him from outside our borders."

I slowed, allowing her to walk beside me. The sun had lifted higher in the sky, it was well past dawn. If I had any chance of getting away, the time was now.

"What are you suggesting?" Hope's tentative hand snuck past my defenses. If she had an actual plan, then it was better than mine. If I had rights to call it a plan at all.

She rounded in front of me, and stuck her hands to her hips striking a defiant pose. "We go back. Gather allies, not everyone will be on the Darkling's side. After Novokribirsk, I'm sure of it. The Capital is full of places to hide, that's not even counting the Little and Grand Palaces. The King, his advisors, and all the commoners hate the Grisha," Her pleading took on a bitter nature, "They'll love an excuse to make the Darkling a villain."

"They won't need an excuse." I said automatically, still feeling quarrelsome.

"Right." She muttered, almost too low for me to hear. Her sadness was the one thing that kept me from heading off. She was ready to turn all of Ravka against the Darkling for the sake of stopping him. Even against the Grisha, the lifestyle she loved. Maybe we were at odds, but everything she said was so tempting. She had put a roast pig in front of starving man.

"The Darkling controls my power, Zoya. When I'm near him, he can call it and I can't stop him."

She was unfazed. "Right now, we're alone. That's as vulnerable as you can be to him. He'll find you anyway, and he'll win if we don't gather any forces. But if we do, you won't even have to go near him. I will kill him." As she spoke her words, her entirely demeanor shifted. There was a promise in those words; she was _planning_ on doing it herself. By telling her I couldn't fight, in a way I was giving her exactly what she wanted.

But that didn't stop the obvious concerns I was having. "No one will want to be our ally if they think I'm controlled by the Darkling. No one will fight him if all I am is figurehead. They'll expect me to be able to stand against him." I pointed out.

"We won't tell anyone." She shrugged as though it was a given.

I raised my brows, "That's a pretty big secret. Big enough that if they find out, these alleged allies might just turn us over to the Darkling themselves."

Again she shrugged, tilting her head, "It won't be easy. But it's a dangerous game no matter how you roll the die."

_She's right. I can't run, _I thought, so enticed by her words.

_She's good… or maybe I'm just easy to convince. The Darkling had done it in a snap, hadn't he?_

"I'm damned if I agree to this." I sighed rolling my head back to the heavens, grounding my teeth.

Zoya caught my eye, a peculiar look in her eye. It was like amusement or something. I looked away, back at the cloudless sky. This was too much weirdness in one day.

"And we're all damned if you don't."

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**Yup. We're turning this crazy train back around to the Capital. I want to put some Darklina in the story but it ain't gonna happen until they get to the Little Palace, sorry. Review please; this chapter was disgustingly hard to write for some reason. I feel like I'm losing my touch…**


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